Someone recently posted a comment on the blog which I think is interesting enough to print here. I have tidied-up some of the punctuation.
The comment reads…
I first met Frank in 1976 at Cardiff Prison.
I first spoke to him by saying: “How can you wear jeans?”
He looked at me and said: “Come with me, son.”
I went to his cell.
He said: “Sit.”
He threw a book at me: “Read this.”
I threw it back at him.
“I said: “You read it.”
He said: “I like you – You’ve got bottle.”
Then I knew who he was.
He became a friend of mine. We used to have a good laugh.
Not many would speak to him.
He was my cup of tea.
I was 21 at that time. I use to play football on Saturdays, but there are four nations.
Frank said: “Colin, you haven’t been picked to play for Wales. I will be back in five minutes.”
(When he returned) he said to me: “Yes, you are playing. Sorted. I want you to play for the English side. But Colin,” he said, “you must score or I will have to break your legs.”
I scored in every game and the English won.
Frank would run up and down the line threatening to break my leg if I didn’t score. He was shouting no end.
One game, he needed me to sort this guy on the other side. (When I did) he shouted: “Now, job done!”
I was sent off. Frank was so happy.
The last time I spoke to Frank was when he asked me if I could go and see if his wife was in the visitors’ room and how long had she been waiting.
She had been there for two hours.
I went back. I told Frank.
He said: “Thanks Col, mate.”
He said: “Disappear now. You won’t see me again, Col.”
He said: “Just go. Bye, Col.”
“But Frank…” I said.
He said: “Go. Go now.”
From a distance, I hear Frank: “Bye, Col.”
Sad for me.
Then I hear all the alarms go off.
The prison officer told him No his wife wasn’t there. So Frank cut his throat.
Last time I seen him.
Dragged away. My mate Frank.
Colin your English top scorer.
I found out he had money on me to score.
Respect to you Frank
xxxxxx from Colin.